


Burn After Reading

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Assorted Corpses, Fantasy AU, M/M, NSFW, Other, Pyro (Pyromancer), Spy (Assassin), The Sparks, They/Them, date, nonbinary Pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: [Fantasy AU] The Assassin stalks the night, striking down targets with inexplicable skill; yet all he wishes is to spend a night in the arms of his lover, the Pyromancer.After the conclusion of a rather large contracted hit, he takes the opportunity to see Them in their secret place for dinner, and rather more physical pursuits.





	Burn After Reading

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AShinyTurquoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShinyTurquoise/gifts).



> For AShinyTurquoise, hope you like it.

 

Ash swirled through the desolate alley, sticking to the blood spatter and clinging to the corpses that littered the dingy brickwork. The artisan behind such destruction lingered, unusually, over the scene of the crime; swathed in shadows, as was his trade, and only barely discernible to the trained eyes. 

 

Satisfaction coursed through the assassin’s veins at a job well done, though he lamented the mess it had made of his beloved hand-crafted boots; blood was such a pain to have to remove from leather. Ah, but that is the inherent downside of having murder and deception as your primary trade… you can buy expensive attire, but it oft becomes ruined in the pursuit of the next commission. 

  
  


A gout of piercingly bright flame announced the arrival of his beloved, and the means by which disposal would easily be adhered. Silhouetted in the weak starlight, nothing more than a vaguely menacing shadow, was the one other sentient being on this whole miserable world that the Assassin could stand… 

 

“Yes, yes, very impressive… as always.” He says, lips curling in his trademark smug smirk, “Then again, mon amour, there is little about you that it not… is there?” 

 

Swathed in layers upon layers of obscuring protective attire, the pyromancer strode towards the corpses, eyes glued upon them in fascination through the hooded slits in their mask. They loved the way the assassin worked, the little details of how and who and why, all culminating in a gift to him… things to burn. Criminals and miscreants to offer up to the flames that the pyromancer adored with the same passionate fervour as they did their shadowclad lover.

 

“One moment, my little firebug…” the assassin implored, moving forth to kneel by the closest corpse. Deft fingers danced through the tattered clothing, eventually pulling forth an item, before he moved to the next in order to repeat the process. “One does not get paid if they do not bring back proof,” he explains, displaying a handful of similarly crested jewellery. 

 

The pyromancer tilts their head, thinking about the nature and significance of what was being presented; either it meant a family… or, maybe a conspiracy. They hoped for the latter, for in that case there would always be more to feed their beloved flames…

 

“You are correct, to an extent, mon amour…” adds their lover, “It was a conspiracy born of a certain high-class family, intending to overthrow the current leaders through nefarious means… however, they never assumed to be caught. Conspirators and sabetours never do, do they?” The assassin tosses the items up and down, bouncing them in his palm with no small degree of pride as he intones, “ _ Long live the house of Blu… _ ”

  
  


Clapping their hands in delight, the Pyromancer celebrates with him. Such a large family, the illustrious Blus, removing even a fraction of them would be a fantastically long adventure!    
Somewhat muffled by their face mask, the pyromancer tilts their head at the pile of bodies in query. “May I feed the flames now?” they ask, in a tone that no mere mortal born of human flesh could ever hope to achieve. 

It was an addictive voice, and every time he heard it, it sent thrills of pleasure shuddering through his body. The assassin was convinced that they must have some paranatural parentage, something supernatural surging through their veins that was so alluring, and yet terrified others. 

 

Few had ever had the privilege of seeing them without their mask, and he was honoured to be among them. But the ethereal form they held was something… that definitively marked them out as something more than human, like a living candle, almost. He adored them, and made sure to show how much he loved every inch of them when they were alone together.

 

Assassins had many skills, but he was at least glad that some of his could bring great joy to his beloved through both murder and more intimate techniques. As was the case now, when his single acquiescing nod sent a delighted smile blooming across the pyromancer’s hidden features; no, one could not see it, but they were so intricately aware of one another after all this time… that the assassin could sense it. And it warmed his heart, like nothing else. 

  
  


With an elated reverence, the pyromancer called forth flames of piercing brightness that squirmed and wiggled about their arms, like excited pets. Laughter, soft and gentle and unearthly filled the air with a preternatural degree of delight as they directed the living flame towards their target; each little flicker appearing to leap eagerly onto the corpses, enveloping whatever they could until culminating in an inferno. The heat was staggering, as was the smell, but neither present seemed to be put off by that; they had spent too long doing such things to become skittish now.

 

The assassin procured a cigarette from somewhere upon his person and leaned forwards to the flames; an obliging spark leaned out and tapped the end, setting it smoking. He nodded his thanks, and took a well-deserved drag; relaxing as he fingered the jewellery that would make them a king’s ransom this night. 

 

As the corpses became charred remnants, leaving almost no trace of identity or humanity save the odd bone here and there; their ashes scattered on the wind, intermingling with those wafting from hearthfires all over the town. Such a convenient means of disposal…

 

Finally, his schedule was clear to do a little spoiling.

 

The Assassin sidles up to the Pyromancer, who was gently patting the remaining flames and encouraging them to go back to sleep for when they would next be needed, and placed a kiss on their masked cheek. “Meet me by the lightning tree in an hour, mon amour… I would to take you out this night.” he whispered, feeling the barest inclination of their head in response, before disappearing into the night. 

 

~)0(~

 

Though most would be stashed in secret places under different names that could never be linked back to him, the assassin had taken his due payment for the eradication of the known extremists from his current employers, and decided to line several of his hidden pockets with enough to spoil his beloved firebug. His path through the dark streets went unnoticed by the many traipsing drunkenly past from tavern to tavern, nor was he spotted by the couples out strolling under the moonlight on such a clear night. Of course, he could have used magic to receive such discretion, but the assassin considered it a matter of pride that he be able to escape notice in plain sight, from skill alone. 

 

His path to their secret meeting place was stalled on several occasions as he had to pause to purchase something to enhance their night together; which brooked some argument from more than a few hastily roused shopkeepers, until a sharp blade to their throats and the promise of shiny coins silenced their protests. Indeed, he had nearly been decked by the butcher, but all was well when he walked away with quite an enticing cut of meat wrapped and stashed within a secret compartment of his cloak. 

 

Out of the slowly-growing town, past the winding main path and through a series of ruins was a forest; it was notoriously dark, dangerous, something allegedly full of glowing monsters and the like that parents liked to warn their children of. Naturally, the only glowing creature the assassin had ever encountered within the forest was the pyromancer themself, and a few of their fire sprites… 

 

Speaking of which. As he stepped foot in the shadowy edge of the forest, little sparks arose from behind rocks, clearly having been waiting for him. The assassin held out a gloved hand to let a few sit, whilst others moved ahead and cast their light on the hidden path, so he would not lose his way. They would not harm him, even if touching bare skin, as he had learned many years before; such endearingly warm little creatures they were, when not feasting upon corpses, and he had grown to love them as much as the pyromancer. 

  
  


“You’re here!” came that scintillating voice, as he broke through the dense trees and into the clearing. The lightning tree, charred and humming with electricity, stood imposingly above them all to one side; trees lining all sides but one, where a large series of boulders had been coerced, by flame, to melt into a shelter of sorts. It would be seen as an overhang, really, but the weather around here was rarely so wild as to require anything more rain-repelling. 

Should a storm arise, they would simply move into one of the many secluded houses the assassin had purchased under various pseudonyms over the years; the closest of which was not five minutes’ walk away. A little rudimentary for the assassin’s refined tastes, but still, much loved by the pyromancer… although, it could be the large fireplace that lured them more than the promise of a soft bed or a shower. Who knew?

 

“Indeed I am, my little firebug, and what a welcome I received from your darling little sparks!” he charms, sweeping into the clearing with a side beam of delight. Only together were they ever really themselves… the masks, literal and figurative, left behind. A small flock of sparks hovered around his head, pulsing delightedly at the compliment; some nudging against the assassin’s unguarded face. He could not help but laugh, their warm flames tickled where they landed. 

 

“Could it be they sensed I had brought them…” he pauses for dramatic effect, catching the attention of all the sparks in the clearing as he pulls out a large bag from beneath his voluminous coat, “some of their favourite charcol? Hmmm?” 

 

He was nearly blinded by the sudden flare of excitement from them all, but the amused laugh from his pyromancer was more than enough to make up for it. The assassin sprinkled out the charcoal, and the sparks fell on it like pigeons to seed; flashing strange colours in their intense excitement. Beautiful, adorable, so easy to please and yet, you could not help but to spoil them as one would a favoured child. 

  
  


“They’re going to be too full to start even a grassfire tonight, you know that don’t you?” the pyromancer admonishes gently, but clearly they had anticipated his spoiling of the sparks, because there was already a good fire blazing in the midst of the clearing. They press a kiss to his cheek, and his heart feels as bright as the sparks, delighted from pleasing them so effortlessly. “How can you pretend to have such a cold heart, when you are so kind?” 

 

“Easily, mon amour, for you and the sparks are the only things I could ever be warmed by… everyone else is merely, a contract waiting to be fulfilled.” he purrs, pressing closer to feel the warmth… and jerking back suddenly. “Ah, yes, I had forgotten! I have procured us the finest assortment of meat and vegetables that one could threaten out of dozy shopkeepers at this hour…”

 

He paused, “Unless you would prefer I go and steal away a meal already made, that is. We don’t have to cook anything, if that is not your wish…” 

 

It was too late, they had already taken the food parcels and were busily sprinting across to the firepit; expertly assessing each item and deciding which spices and herbs to use. Cooking was, it had shocked the assassin to discover, their other great passion; though when he realised just how many meals could be cooked atop a fire, it became somewhat more understandable. 

 

Twirling a knife in his hands, he moved over to the large flat boulder that had always served as a rather impromptu bench, and began expertly slicing up the vegetables. They did not speak to one another, but moved in an effortless tandem born of years together, of anticipating without realising. It was a mesmerising dance to behold, and yet, none but the sparks were privy to such a sight. And they would want it no other way.

 

~)0(~

 

Pressed close, side-by-side they finished their meal, the bench at their back and firepit to the fore, allowing them to bask like well-dressed lizards in the warmth of their own personal sun. Dinner had been devoured swiftly, and each morsel was tastier than the last; or at least, that is how it seemed to the pair. Though perhaps it was the company, more than anything, that made the evening feel so divine. 

The assassin rested his head on their shoulder, feeling fingers intertwine with his own as the both gazed into the dancing flames; safe, sated and content. All emotions and sensations that one in his profession rarely experienced more than once in their lives, and yet, he had it whenever he wished… for the pyromancer was always there, always with him. And he, with them.

 

Sometimes his work required subterfuge, seduction, going undercover… and yet, it was never held against him. Though sometimes, the assassin felt it should; the pyromancer never made him feel as if he had abandoned them, or betrayed them by using his more carnal skills to lower a target’s guard… but it had begun to wear on him. Perhaps it was merely that he had been working so often lately, that this subtle pleasure of being with the one he loved, had been denied so long. 

 

“It’s okay.” they breathed in his ear, turning their head just enough to press a kiss to his temple. He had long suspected that they could read his mind, or maybe it was simply that his lowered guard around them allowed the pyromancer to read his thoughts on his cursedly-expressive face. “You do what you do for us, and because you enjoy it. Like when I burn things, sometimes important things... or when the sparks and I go away for a little while, and you’re left alone.” 

 

“I would never stop you from such things, mon amour… but that is different. When you go away, there is no chance that you will not return, or that you have been seducing people just for the chance to slide a knife between their ribs.” he pauses, frowning. “Actually, mon amour, are you perchance sneaking away to have an affair with a rather attractive volcano or somesuch other fiery temptress behind my back?” 

 

They laughed, as he had intended, and that same gentle thrill of warmth flittered through the assassin. Their warm eyes turned upon him, so like molten gold he could barely begin to guess where the fire’s reflection ended, and their irises began…

“If you wanted to know you must only ask, oh smoke to my flame…” they smiled, and he knew they were toying with him. That nickname only came into play when they wanted something, usually-... oh. 

  
  


Turning slightly, they pressed their well-honed body along the length of his own, and warmth seemed to blossom between the pair. “My smoke, it doesn’t matter where you go or who you share yourself with or why… as long as you return to my flame when you are able, so I know you are safe.” they whispered hotly into his ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, and trailing down his throat as their fingers expertly unlatched the cloak clasp at his throat. Hands slid beneath his dark tunic, running the length of his torso; muscular but not as much as his lover’s; pitted with scars, detailing a life fraught with close encounters with death. 

 

He arched into the sensation, taking the rare opportunity to not think, not plan, not be on his guard at all times. It was not rare that they traded roles, but it had been some time, and more often than not the Assassin tended to enjoy wringing every last shrill cry of pleasure from the other with his ministrations. But this… this was also good. 

 

“When your mind is full of heavy things, you just need a spark to clear it away…” they hummed, half to themselves as the pyromancer swiftly divested him of his tunic. Teeth nipped at his collarbone, and a hot tongue laved the minor discomfort away, before trailing languidly to his chest. The assassin felt their arousal pressed against his own, and somewhat impishly rocked his own hips against them; they gasped, then retorted by grazing a nipple with their teeth so he shuddered. A noise escaped, part surprise but mostly unintelligible. He felt their grin pressed against his abdomen as they moved down slowly, oh so slowly, trailing hot wet kisses that slowly cooled despite the warmth of the fire before them. 

 

Boots already tossed aside before dinner, it was a simple matter for the other to slip off the assassin’s remaining attire and toss them aside. Spreading the cloak against the ground, the pyromancer coerces his lover into laying down, and slides between his thighs to press teasing kisses and nips along the sensitive flesh. Bare, in every conceivable meaning of the word, the assassin’s trust in them was as erotic as anything else; to be so close when he was so vulnerable and willing, was a gift. One that the firebug wished to reward.

 

Their hand lightly caressed the hot, heavy length as it stiffened under their gaze and begging for attention. The assassin held himself still, quietly awaiting whatever pleasure was to come, shivering lightly as hot puffs of breath ghosted over his sensitive skin. He gasped as their tongue painted a slick stripe of spit along his shaft, teasing the head with a roll of that talented oral appendage, before moving down to kiss at his balls. Sucking one into their mouth, and tickling with their tongue before releasing it to repeat the process with the other…

 

His hands clenched into the cloak, limbs trembling as they remained as still as possible for their lover; panting lightly, as a pleasure-induced flush began to creep up into his cheeks. They licked again, and he huffed a small cry of pleasure as they sunk down on the head; moving to envelop the head and explore every inch with just their tongue… until he was shuddering from the sensation. The pyromancer grinned, lewdly allowing spit to dribble down the shaft where their hand now grasped and twisted along with the bobbing rhythm of their head; and his breath came in short gasps now. Every nerve ending tingling as the sensation seemed to grow with every movement. Heat pooled within his abdomen, tight and roiling like a volcano ready to to erupt… 

 

And he jumped, slightly, as he felt a far-too-cool slick of lubricating potion being applied to his hole by the pyromancer’s free hand. How had they known he’d brought that? No matter…    
They gave an apologetic suck, returning to their enthusiastic task of drawing his cock deeper, and deeper into their mouth until it felt like they would swallow him whole. He moaned despite himself as the first finger slide inside, well-lubricated and wriggling about to acclimate the environment for what was to come. 

 

The assassin wriggled his hips at the entrance of the second finger, and bucked back onto the third, torn between the desire to thrust forward into the wet heat… or back upon the well-slicked fingers. His balls were tightening as he warned the other, who tapped him twice on the leg to say they understood… and to give permission for him to thrust, they would be okay. 

Unable to stop himself, the assassin sated both desires simultaneously, frantically thrusting forwards into the pyromancer’s sinfully hot mouth, and down upon the fingers thrusting languidly into his body just shy of where he needed them. The pleasure was bubbling hotly just under the surface, until he could take no more without losing his mind, and came in great hot spurts with a scream. 

 

The pyromancer pulled away, dribbling a gooey white mess upon the pair as the assassin came, covering his own abdomen with ejaculate more than anything else. A small spurt hit the pyromancer’s cheek, and they laughed, wiping it off absently with a finger, and licking it clean. 

Shuddering, feeling spent but not quite sated, the assassin tried to catch his breath as he felt the other move up his body to press a lewd kiss to his mouth. He could taste himself, and it was hilariously debauch to do so, from his perspective. 

Their own hard length pressed against his abdomen, rutting gently against the assassin’s and slicking itself in his cum; the pyromancer shuddered, clutching tight to their lover as they rocked. It was a sinfully delightful sensation, and he hesitated to stop them but… who knew when they would have the opportunity again?   
  
He places a hand on their arm, and they freeze, looking down in concern.    
“Mon amour, would you not prefer to put all your excellent efforts to better use?” he queries, parting his thighs suggestively, and rubbing the reviving cock against that of his lover. Their eyes were wide in surprise, clearly being so lost in the moment that they had utterly forgotten that such a thing was a possibility.

 

“Are you sure?” they checked, slicking themselves and his hole again with an almost obscene amount of lubrication. He smiled, and nodded, and they kissed him deeply as their cock slowly slid inside the assassin with practiced precision. Slow, easy, methodical, and mindful of how the other was feeling… 

 

“Ahhh, mon dieu... “ the assassin whispered, eyelids fluttering slightly as the long-absent sensation of being filled by the warm, thick length of his lover’s cock was restored to him. The pyromancer grinned, kissed the corner of his mouth and tugged experimentally at the assassin’s newly revived shaft, just to see him writhe. 

They rolled their hips, and he gasped as they scraped over his prostate in a ludicrously lazy manner; it sent little bolts of lightning up his spine. Ah, they must do it this way far more often! 

He thrust back slightly, regretting not being in a more favourable position to contribute… but then, they liked him like that, anyway. Where they could be in sole control of providing pleasure to him.

Just as he loved bringing them to the brink of oblivion, when he had the time and opportunity to do so…

 

Who could blame them?

 

They thrust slowly, gently in and out; a slow drag that reminded them both of how entangled they were, body and soul. Movements slowly growing in speed and strength with every passing moment, until the sharp slap of flesh against flesh could be heard ringing throughout the clearing. The assassin clung to their lover, rocking against each thrust and letting a strong of cries, praise and curses tumble free without censor. It was so good, he could almost feel himself ready to come again… and so soon after such an explosive orgasm? Clearly, they had magic of their own.

 

“Mon amour…” he moans, frantically pushing back against the swift thrusts and not caring for how sore he would feel later, only trapped in the moment wherein the pinnacle of pleasure was within reach. Their arms hold him tighter, their thrusts angling to relentlessly target his prostate until the assassin can barely recall his own name as his balls tighten almost painfully. 

 

“Go on, my smoke… come for me… feed my fire,” they whisper, slamming into him with frantic need, their voice strained by how close they were to falling over the edge. He feels them drive into him again, again, again… and then it was too much. With a scream that they would probably hear all the way in town, the assassin feels his orgasm explode throughout his body, nails digging into the pyromancer’s back as his toes clenched. He shudders frantically as their thrusting continues while he comes between them, and feels their rhythm grow erratic.

 

Their breath comes out in harsh gasps as sweat beads off their forehead and falls onto his face.    
Eyes fixated on his own as they pump into his slowly relaxing body twice more before curling in around the assassin and coming with an unearthly beautiful cry of ecstasy. He strokes their face, chest, sides, whatever he can reach as they thrust through their orgasm; breathing heavily and trembling with exertion, relief, love and pleasure. 

 

When at last both lovers have quietened, he draws them to his chest, holding them close.    
The assassin presses a kiss to the pyromancer’s temple, stroking patterns into the flesh of their spine, and watching the stars move. It feels like the hum of the universe is resonating through his bones, and by the ecstatic look upon their face, they must feel it too. 

 

He is not sure when they pull away and disengage, only that at some point they do. Rising and cleaning themselves, automatically, before laying back down upon the cloak and allowing the sparks to create a blanket over the top of them. So very much like a pack of incendiary cats, those little creatures. 

 

The pyromancer curls around him, and the assassin returns the embrace tightly.

He kisses them, sweetly. “Like a fire in the night, I will always be drawn to you, mon amour…”

They return the kiss, grinning as they begin to drowse. “And I love you too, smoke to my flame…”

 

The fiery blanket crackled, and the pair cracked open their eyes.

“And of course, we love you too, little ones…” the assassin reassured the sparks, who immediately calmed down.

 

And with that, those in the clearing slept well, sated and content in their tiny corner of the universe. All was well.


End file.
